Underneath the Mistletoe
by Cicalamelon
Summary: Christmas-y drabbles. Multiple pairings. Rating is subject to change.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Death Note_ and I make no profit from writing or posting this story.

**Rating**: K+

There is always something to see - or so Near has said - and it must be that he's always looking, because he's always staring. Usually, it's from the most inconceivably awkward of places, so it isn't surprising that Matt almost stands on Near as he searches for Mello on the third floor.

"Hey, woah!" Matt exclaims as he rights himself. "What the hell are you doing? This is a doorway!"

Near doesn't reply; his eyes are fixed on something above them. He's always staring at something, so it's not terribly unusual, but Matt looks up anyway.

"Oh," he squeaks at the cheery little branch of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. He's immediately tempted to scratch the back of his neck and reach for the elusive comfort that the action seems to promise, but his arms have apparently chosen this moment to freeze stiff. "I bet Linda put that there," he laughs in a two-octaves-too-high voice.

Does Near think they should-

No. Of course not.

It's stupid. He's just being stupid, even thinking about that.

He really couldn't-

Not with Near, anyway.

Near wouldn't want something like that.

(Not with him.)

"It's a pointless tradition," Near says flatly.

A little too quickly, Matt blurts, "I wouldn't call it _pointless_..."

Near's gaze flickers momentarily toward his face before his eyes are fixed on the mistletoe again.

His lips are so pink and full. They could be soft-

"It's an unavoidable social convention," Matt says after a short moment, recalling with some effort the best way to con someone so impossibly socially retarded. "You can't really ignore it."

He's half-hoping Near doesn't buy it.

"It's inescapable?" Near paraphrases, his brow furrowed.

Matt realises with a start that Near actually buys it, so he glances up at the mistletoe and replies, with a nervous, twitching smile, "Yeah, pretty much."

And then things are awkward again, because Near's fingers are reaching, halting, fumbling at Matt's face. He's too short to reach so Matt, disbelieving, stoops down and his vision is immediately full of white, fluffy hair. He's about to let out a hysterical giggle when he feels Near's lips brush very faintly and hesitantly against his.

This isn't Matt's first kiss, but he feels horrifically nervous anyway. His heart is beating so quickly that he worries he might actually collapse and squash Near to death, but miraculously his legs don't give out, even when Near's cool fingers relax their death-grip on his face to trace his jaw. More than a little shocked, he inhales sharply and Near pulls away completely to stare at him, his cheeks and lips pleasantly flushed.

The pressure to say something is overwhelming, so Matt swallows thickly and mumbles in an odd, choked voice, "O-Okay. Um. Well."

Perhaps taking pity on him, Near says, "Mello is in the playroom - third on the left."

Something strange settles in the pit of Matt's stomach and starts squirming. "Right. Yeah. I'll just go and find him then," he says giddily.

Near nods once and settles back down in the middle of the corridor, and Matt quickly leaves him behind, one hand at his mouth and the other shoved deep into his pocket. He hopes Mello doesn't mind the wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Rating**: T

L's immaturity knows no bounds. Today, he is in a good mood, so the ones on the receiving end are the rest of the Task Force rather than Light, and Light's grateful of the reprieve, to be sure, but it would be unnecessary in the first place if L weren't such an idiot.

"...which is why I have no doubt in my mind that passionfruit cheesecake is indeed superior to strawberry pavlova," L concludes with a smug air of finality. "What does your hair have to say on this matter, Aizawa-san?"

Light rolls his eyes but secretly hides a small smile. It's a rare but not entirely unpleasant thing to see L departing from his usual Kira suspicions, especially in favour of joking.

Aizawa splutters something that might be a profanity and Souichirou interjects, before the man can embarrass himself, "That's quite enough, Ryuuzaki."

"It's so _large_," L murmurs as if nobody else had spoken. "I just thought that it might be capable of sustaining itself as a living entity separate to Aizawa-san..." He turns to Light and expectantly asks, "What do you think, Light-kun?"

Souichirou also looks at Light and repeats, "Yes - what _do_ you think, Light?"

Light is not as uneasy as he probably should be and responds easily, "I doubt it's alive in that sense, but it is quite big..."

L nods. "It's mesmerising."

With a sigh of defeat, Souichirou retreats to his desk; Aizawa shoots them both an irritated, bemused sort of glare and turns back to his work as well. As soon as Aizawa stops muttering under his breath and resumes typing something on his computer, L flicks a sugar cube at the man and grins when it lands, unnoticed, in his hair.

It's an ugly sort of thing, L's smile. His face stretches and contorts in a weird way that makes him look too thin - which, Light supposes, he most certainly is. He's the least handsome person Light's ever had the misfortune of seeing; he's the kind of thing that belongs in stories, being dragged inside out of the rain by children, and his smile is suitably pathetic and unnerving... so instead of looking at it, Light reviews some of the papers in front of him, but for some reason (sleep deprivation, he assumes) it's difficult to focus.

That ridiculous face… maybe it wouldn't look so sickly if L actually ate proper food for once instead of constantly cramming sweets into his cavernous maw of a mouth. It's a wonder L isn't morbidly obese and diabetic, though even that would probably be an improvement over how impoverished he looks now. Perhaps if he-

"Is everything okay, Light-kun?" L asks.

Light blinks and is quickly overwhelmed with dread when he realises he's been staring at L's absurd little grin. He quickly replies, "Sorry, Ryuuzaki - I was just lost in thought."

Perhaps simply because it's impossible for him to be anything but an annoying ass, L says, "I see. It's just that Light-kun was staring at me quite intently. I wonder what's on your mind…"

"It's nothing," Light insists, pointedly staring down at the papers on his desk.

Stupid smile.

Stupid L.

Suddenly, his stomach gurgles loudly and he realises he hasn't eaten in almost twelve hours. He stands up and stalks to the kitchen with a somewhat vicious yank on the chain connecting his wrist to L's, fuming at the unfairness of the situation. It's fine for L, who just sits there eating those damn sweets all day, shovelling them into his ridiculous face at a frankly alarming rate...

L tugs on the chain and Light stumbles to a halt, whipping around to send L a venomous glare.

"Really, Light-kun," L says in a smug voice, "if you wanted to kiss me, all you had to do was ask." He points at something hovering above their heads.

Horrified, Light looks up at the cheerful leaves hanging from the ceiling and replies, "That's a Western tradition, Ryuuzaki, and, as most holiday traditions are, it's entirely inane." Besides, he thinks with no small amount of irritation, he's not the one who stopped.

L smirks. "But you recognised it, Light-kun."

A second passes.

Then another.

Then more.

Light cannot look away from the pretty little decoration above them.

L can't be serious about this.

...But knowing L, he's _completely_ serious.

So Light makes his decision. He won't be the first to back down, not this time. If L wants to play one of his stupid little games, Light will play too.

He firmly grabs L by the face and purrs in what he knows is a delightfully erotic tone, "If you were so desperate to kiss me, you should've said something."

L's face turns a most pleasing shade of pink, but he doesn't melt like so many others have. "The opportunity never presented itself before now," he points out as he somewhat jerkily rests his hands on Light's waist.

Light glances over L's shoulder just in time to see Aizawa turn to look at them. The sugar cube in his hair wobbles precariously and Light snickers under his breath-

Only to have the sound catch in his throat when L very unexpectedly kisses him.

On the mouth.

While Souichirou, Matsuda, Aizawa, and Mogi are all watching.

Light's eye twitches and his nails dig into the sides of L's head, but he takes several deep breaths to calm himself. This is L's game today, he reminds himself. God only knows why, but this is the game L wants to play and he will not lose.

He relaxes slightly, makes a small noise in the back of his throat, runs his tongue along L's lips, and smirks when L sharply recoils.

"I win," Light murmurs triumphantly.

Wide-eyed, L reaches up to touch his lips and breathes, "Be that as it may, Light-kun, I've never considered myself less of a loser." And with that said, he nonchalantly leads Light back to his seat in the investigation room and resumes rapidly typing things into his computer.

For a very long time, Light stares incredulously at L's back, adrenaline racing through his body, before he notices that Aizawa has finally found and removed the sugar cube in his hair, only to have L replace it as soon as he turns away.

Light hides his smile and gets back to work.

Maybe Western traditions aren't _all_ bad.


	3. Chapter 3

**Rating**: T

"_x_ equals twelve," he says for the tenth time in as many minutes.

She uncomprehendingly copies down his answer and nods. It might have fooled anyone else, but he's not quite dull enough to miss that the equations in her lecture-pad are made up of absent-minded doodles rather than numbers.

With a sigh, he says, "You don't understand any of this, do you?"

Some of the children around them snicker and point toward their table, which is stacked high with dominoes. He resolutely ignores them and the urge to flick dominoes at them, if only because finding all of the pieces again would be a pain.

"Sorry," she mumbles, flushing. Something in the pit of his stomach swoops and he licks his lips. "It's just that Roger said I have to pick up my marks in math and, well, I'm an _artist_, not a mathematician, so I don't really-"

He silently holds up a hand and busies his other one in his hair. "Failure is inexcusable," he drawls.

He knows that he sounds (is) obnoxious.

She worries at her lip as she nods again. "Sorry."

She is the only one who doesn't mind - who has never minded.

"Then let's try again."

He has never humoured her for this long before and it isn't only the reward of thirty unopened boxes of Lego that has him staying put. She looks nice today, he thinks. She always looks nice. Her face, in particular, is probably the nicest part. Sort of oval-shaped, but overall pleasant to look at. The quick glances he can't quite stop himself casting at it make odd urges rise in his chest; he doesn't want to touch her face so much as smother it with his whole being and feel it and taste it and hold it forever. It's such a nice face, after all...

"I - No, I can't do this," she sighs as she places her pacer down on the desk with a bit too much vigour.

He also drops his pencil, though much less gracefully, and immerses himself more completely in building a domino tower to house their homework. "I'm sure you could, if you just tried a little harder."

She sniffs. "We're not all as good as you."

"No," he says with a small smile as an image of Mello's angry face comes unbidden to his mind, "I suppose not."

Time passes.

She has not picked up her pacer again, so he's not sure what she's still doing here, but he doesn't mind that she hasn't left yet, even though it makes his stomach squirm.

At the top of his castle, when he has to stand to reach, something leafy and sharp brushes his fingers.

"Ah," he breathes as he brings them back down in front of his face and eyes the new pink line running across his knuckles.

"What is it?" she asks.

Much more carefully this time, he reaches above his castle and plucks the leaves from the low ceiling to inspect them. "Mistletoe," he recognises dispassionately.

How utterly ridiculous.

She stands up, too, and glances at the leaves. "Christmas was _ages_ ago."

"It must be a left-over decoration," he surmises. He is horrified to discover that his face is hot. "It's not Christmas," he says perhaps too quickly, "so we don't have to - oh."

Suddenly, she's much closer than he remembers. He can count the freckles on her cheeks, the eyelashes ringing her eyes, even the small indents in her teeth...

And she's touching his cheek with her fingers.

"Is it okay if I kiss you now, Near?" she asks shyly.

The saliva in his mouth is suddenly sticky and sweet, but not in the good way, like Linda's breath, but rather in the bad way, where he can't breathe or swallow around it. He'd like to tell her that he feels sort of nauseous and dizzy, so if he could step off the chair before his vertigo can affect him too badly, he'd be very appreciative, but instead he finds himself nodding.

She leans in after only a moment's hesitation and he finds that her lips are also sticky-sweet, like two slices of mandarin. He doesn't actually like citrus fruits but this is - different. The taste leaves a bit to be desired, but her mouth is so wonderfully warm and soft that a shiver runs up his spine. Suddenly, he wants to wrap his arms around her waist in the same way that she's wound hers around his shoulders, but they're heavy and sort of limp, like dead fish, so he lets them hang uselessly at his sides, secretly hating them for betraying him at this most crucial moment. He itches with the foreign desire to be closer to her, to press his body against hers in a tight hug, to never ever stop this feeling coiling in his belly.

When she pulls away after a long time, he stands very still and stares at her.

"I - um - I have to go now," she stutters, her face still red. She clumsily steps off her chair, straightens out her blouse, gathers her things, and flicks her hand at him in a weird sort of wave as she leaves.

Someone wolf-whistles.

Slowly, Near descends from his own chair and carelessly lets the domino tower topple over.

Her pacer is still on the desk. He thoughtfully taps it against his chin and decides that it would only be right of him to return it to her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Rating**: T

Late.

He's _late_!

Oh no.

He's never been late before. Never _this_ late, anyway.

Five minutes.

_Five whole minutes_!

But it's not his fault - it's really not.

He was at Starbucks, buying Ryuuzaki's favourite coffee cake, when they got his order wrong and he got _chocolate_ cake instead, so he had to go back to get the right order because Ryuuzaki doesn't like chocolate cake nearly as much as he likes coffee cake, but-

Okay. He just has to calm down.

Peak-hour traffic in Tokyo is like a hellish maze of bodies, just waiting to knock his precious cake out of his hands, but with intense concentration and determination, he holds fast to the cake. Because it's not just _his_ cake - it's _Ryuuzaki's_. And when he finally manages to weave his way through the human traffic, get past all of the security measures at the investigation building, and burst into the investigation room...

"Matsuda-san. You're late."

He was really hoping Ryuuzaki wouldn't notice.

"Sorry," Matsuda says sheepishly. "They got the order wrong, so I had to go back and get the right one, but then there was this lady and she-"

Ryuuzaki extends one of his hands, his eyes still firmly fixed on the computer screen in front of him. "That's nice, Matsuda-san, but now that you've actually brought me my cake, can I eat it some time tonight? Or would you rather regale me with more tales about the incompetence of the staff at Starbucks?"

Matsuda's heart sinks.

This time, he was really hoping...

"Sorry," he mumbles as he places the cake on Ryuuzaki's desk, then begins to walk away.

It was probably stupid of him, anyway.

"Matsuda-san."

"Yeah?" Matsuda despondently replies.

Ryuuzaki sighs impatiently. "Come here."

Matsuda obediently trudges back to Ryuuzaki's desk, feeling his self-respect drop just a little with every step. "Yes, Ryuuzaki?"

"Closer."

Matsuda obliges.

Ryuuzaki rolls his eyes and says, "Closer than that, Matsuda-san."

Matsuda takes a small step forward. Their proximity is beginning to make him feel in equal parts nervous, apprehensive, and giddy.

With another roll of his eyes, Ryuuzaki reaches out an icy hand and wraps it around Matsuda's forearm, dragging him toward Ryuuzaki's chair, and Matsuda almost faints. Ryuuzaki has never touched anyone in the task force before, aside from Light (but, Matsuda supposes, Light is probably just a strange exception to an even stranger rule).

"Look," Ryuuzaki says, staring at something above Matsuda's head.

So Matsuda does, feeling as if he might collapse.

Above his head, Ryuuzaki's free hand is dangling in the air like an odd, dead tree. Grasped between two of those long fingers is a little twig featuring a leaf and a bunch of small, red berries.

"M-Mistletoe," Matsuda says faintly, his heart racing. He swallows thickly and opens his mouth to say something, but then, quite suddenly, he is kissing Ryuuzaki. Kissing _L_.

Or - to be more precise - _L_ is kissing _him_.

Why it's him, of all people, he's not sure, but something in his stomach drops and he immediately responds with enthusiasm, delighted and suddenly hot all over when L's teeth sink into his bottom lip. He lets out a quiet little noise, half surprise and half encouragement, and squeezes his eyes shut at the thrill that runs through his body when L sucks the abused lip into his mouth.

L's so incredibly talented with his mouth that it makes Matsuda's knees dangerously weak. It ought to be illegal for something to feel so good. He'll never be able to watch L eat another of those sinfully sweet desserts again, the way he bathes everything in sauce then licks it clean with long, slow swipes of his tongue, the way he devours it and sucks the remnants off his fingers... Matsuda wishes he was one of L's desserts and awkwardly squirms in place when he realises that it feels like L really is treating his mouth like it's a delicacy.

When L begins to end it after what feels like a long time, Matsuda tries to follow him, only to have L firmly push him away.

"Goodnight, Matsuda-san," L says, immediately turning back to his computer.

Matsuda nods dazedly and stumbles over himself in his haste to leave. "Ah - yes - um - goodnight, L - I mean, Ryuuzaki." His stomach is full of butterflies. He'd like to burst into song, a bit like how his heart is threatening to burst in his chest.

"Oh, and, Matsuda-san?" L calls while Matsuda is fumbling with the doorknob.

Eager and excited, Matsuda turns around and says, "Yes?"

"Merry Christmas."

"Um - you, too."

In the hallway, once the door is firmly closed behind him, Matsuda bites one of his gloved hands and squeals into it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Rating**: T

"What are you doing?" he demands.

Near gazes up at Mello through his fringe. "I should have thought it was obvious, Mello," he replies from inside the cupboard. "I was hiding."

Mello scowls. "From what?" Not from him, surely - he doesn't have any plans to terrorise Near on Christmas day, not when he has presents to unwrap.

"Maybe I should rephrase that: I was waiting."

"For what?" Mello asks. His patience is beginning to wear thin; he considers just leaving without chocolate altogether, but he needs it if he wants to be able to handle the younger children's excitement and get his presents... but of course Near won't stop being a freak the one time he actually wants to just walk away without a fight.

With a small, strange smile, Near answers, "For you to come find me." Then, as if none of this is creepy enough already, he reaches up one ghostly hand, the other still firmly tugging at his hair, and points toward the ceiling above them, where there's something-

Oh, shit no.

"The fuck is this?!" Mello spits, his face flushing despite himself. "_Mistletoe_?!"

As if Near could think they would _ever_-

As if _Mello_ would ever-

The _nerve_-!

The strange smile hasn't disappeared from Near's face and it just fuels Mello's anger. "Do I get a kiss now?"

"_No_!" Mello exclaims. "What the _hell_ is wrong with you?!" He's trembling with rage and very tempted to hit Near right in his smug, little-

Near frowns. "Don't be coy, Mello-"

"_Coy_?!" Mello shrieks. "I'll fucking _coy_ you!" He grabs one of Near's spindly arms and forces their faces together in a weird, mashing sort of motion that could resemble a kiss, if only it wasn't with Near.

Near makes a satisfying startled sound and wriggles out of Mello's grip like a snake to wind his hands in Mello's hair, his fingers leaving burning trails on Mello's scalp. Horrified, Mello attempts to pull his head away, only to have those hands on his head hold him still. The blood drains from his face.

They're-

What-

Near-

Mello yanks himself away, snapping several of his hairs off in Near's fingers. "That's enough."

Looking somewhat shell-shocked, Near stands very still for a second. "Mello, I-"

"No. I don't care. Shut up. I want chocolate. Get out of my way. What are you even doing here? _Move_," Mello rambles. His heart is pounding and his gums ache where his teeth met Near's and nausea is rolling in his stomach and - and he just wants his fucking chocolate.

A slow smile creeps across Near's face. "Mello definitely isn't shy," he mumbles to himself. "In fact... Mello's brashness is downright-"

"Augh! Shut up, you creep!"

Near's smile slowly fades, to be replaced with an empty, apathetic pout. "_Someone_ woke up on the wrong side of the bed," he mutters.

"Whatever." His patience finally gone for good, Mello roughly pushes Near to aside and searches for his prize, only to be met with rows upon rows of empty shelves.

_No chocolate_.

No.

_No_!

"Merry Christmas, Mello," Near cheerfully comments from outside the cupboard.

Mello tears out of the small space, his fists already clenched at his sides and his teeth grinding.

Little bastard.

That little _shit_.

At least, Mello considers as he picks Near's lock later that day, spilling dark ink all over what little perfectly white carpet he can reach, he has finally found something that he can best Near at with minimal effort: Near is a dreadful kisser.


	6. Chapter 6

**Rating**: T

"It's you," a voice announced in the darkness. "You're the one who killed my clan."

Solid Snake shook his head and replied, "No, don't try to distract me from the truth. I know you were working with Big Boss and now I'm here to finish this."

There was a brief pause before Scorpion stepped into the light and admitted, "Actually, I have no idea who you're talking about. You also don't even look like Quan Chi. That guy is fugly."

"I don't know who Quan Chi is but suddenly I recognise you," Solid Snake replied. He unfolded his arms, his muscles rippling in the semi-light. "You're the legendary assassin Hasashi Hanzo."

"Nobody has called me that name in a very long time… Get over here!" Scorpion growled, whipping his spear out. Instead of piercing Snake's gut, it wrapped around him like a lassoo and with a sharp tug, Scorpion forced Snake to stumble closer.

Snake swallowed uneasily. "Are you going to kill me?" he asked in a hushed voice.

Scorpion laughed and responded, "No, I could never kill a guy as sexy as you." He reached out to touch Snake's face with his free hand, trailing his calloused fingers on the rough stubble covering Snake's jaw. Snake sighed unsteadily and pressed his cheek into Scorpion's palm. "Look down, at the spear."

With a bit of difficulty, Snake moved so that Scorpion's fingers were no longer in his eyes and glanced down. At the end of the rope wrapped tight around his waist, there was no kunai; instead, there was only a small leaf and a few berries.

"Is that… mistletoe?" he asked.

Scorpion smiled, suddenly much closer. "Merry Christmas, David," he breathed, stepping closer still and tugging off his mask…

Matt wakes up with a gasp, thoroughly tangled in his sheets and covered in sweat. He scrubs his eyes with his hands but can't quite get rid of the remnants of his dream and, horrified, he resigns himself to staring at the ceiling just for something else to look at.

He's never, ever drinking eggnog again.


End file.
